


Look at the Stars

by YamiSnuffles



Series: Too Much of a Good Thing [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Both Angels, Alternate Universe - Crowley Didn't Fall (Good Omens), Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Didn't Fall, Crowley Was Not Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Gen, Minor Violence, Neither Did Aziraphale, Pre-Relationship, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), injury but nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamiSnuffles/pseuds/YamiSnuffles
Summary: "Just before the first star appeared in the dimming sky Crawly would, without fail, tuck his head away under his long coils and sleep until the final star faded with the return of the sun. It had continued on that way for the last one hundred and eighty two thousand, five hundred nights. Not that Aziraphale had grown concerned enough to keep exact track of the number."-It's been over 500 years since the angel once known as Salathiel accidentally caused humanity to fall and was forced to become Crawly. In all that time, he hasn't looked at the stars he once helped create and Aziraphale is starting to worry.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Too Much of a Good Thing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527806
Comments: 20
Kudos: 200





	Look at the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to my story "In the Beginning," the first in this series. This one won't make a lot of sense without reading it first.

**~3500 BC**

**-**

Aziraphale remembered when the shapeless light from the dawn of creation was given form at last. The angels tasked with aiding in their creation had put the Almighty’s inspiration to good use. They’d been the original artists, painting with broad strokes in colors only God Herself had known before. No longer was there simply light and dark but stars, moons, nebulae, and more. They were beautiful, brilliant, endless in their variety. The best comparison Aziraphale could make was to jewels but they had predated those and outshone even the finest. They’d put what came before to shame and it was _ good. _Aziraphale had thought so then and even more so when he viewed it as intended, from the cradle of humanity.

While the beauty of the stars themselves had not dimmed, Aziraphale’s feelings about them had. His awe of them was spoiled by a growing sense of melancholy because every single night, without fail, he traded Crawly’s company for theirs. He’d hoped viewing them together might be some consolation to poor Crawly when the seraph was banished from Eden along with the humans but the angel turned serpent had promptly gone to sleep.

That first night, Aziraphale had assumed Crawly was exhausted. It had been quite the day. There had been very few days to speak of, but that one had been monumental for the humans and the seraph alike. Aziraphale couldn’t even begin to imagine what Crawly had felt but fatigue seemed a fair response. Not that Aziraphale would know, having never felt fatigued, but he still had his true form. Crawly was trapped as a serpent. Perhaps, Aziraphale had reasoned, his new corporation simply needed more rest.

Then it had happened again. And again. And again. Just before the first star appeared in the dimming sky Crawly would, without fail, tuck his head away under his long coils and sleep until the final star faded with the return of the sun. It had continued on that way for the last one hundred and eighty two thousand, five hundred nights. Not that Aziraphale had grown concerned enough to keep exact track of the number.

“Even if you can no longer go to them the way you once could, I think you’d still enjoy the sight,” Aziraphale said softly but without much conviction. He felt an uncomfortable pang when he looked up at them sometimes. They didn’t change the way that everything else had and continued to do. He could reach them in an instant if he really wanted, but he liked that they felt so far away, out of reach of the corruption that had fallen seemingly everywhere else. Even Heaven had seen war and no one had come out of it unchanged.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what exactly compelled him, but he manifested a straight, pointed stick into his hand. If forced, he could defend himself well even with such a simple thing. However, he wasn’t like the stars. He had changed and no longer wished to play the warrior. He’d much rather build up than tear down. With unsure, stuttering movements, he attempted to mirror the sky with patterns traced in the sand. He didn’t attempt to make an exact copy. Instead he endeavored to capture the feeling he got from them with swirling strokes and impulsive jabs. Once finished, he examined his work with a considering tilt of his head. When the light hit just so, the sand glimmered a bit like the cosmos above, however he was clearly no artist. The stick dropped from unhappy fingers. It was a poor imitation and was soon blown away with a resigned huff.

He sighed and looked at the serpent dozing softly at his side. “The ones you made are still beautiful. If you cared to look at them again and see. So are- well, I think you still are, as well.”

Aziraphale would never be so bold if he thought Crawly could hear him but the stars were currently at their brightest and so there would be no waking the sleeping snake. That freed Aziraphale to do something he also wouldn’t dare during the day. He reached out a steady hand and stroked his fingers along smooth scales. That form was meant to be a curse for leading humanity to sin, but Crawly wore it so well. There wasn’t, in Aziraphale’s opinion, a being on the face of the planet that could compare to the serpent of Eden.

In the light of day, Crawly appeared to be creamy white with a golden underbelly. The stars revealed something more. Light seemed to hit each scale differently. White was divided into gentler hues so that his whole body shimmered with it. They seemed to change right before Aziraphale’s eyes as they passed under the shadow of his hand. Such a remarkable thing, stardust captured in a graceful, sinuous form.

“The heavens were taken from you. Your name. Your form. I don’t think you need to punish yourself more, my dear, by taking the stars from yourself as well.”

No response, of course. Aziraphale rested his arms on his knees and propped his chin on top of them. Most nights he would go on walking as Crawly slept on his shoulders, but he’d found that harder and harder to do as the years stretched on. Unless he was in one of the human settlements or the moon was full, it was terribly dark. The dark had started to feel terribly lonely and the loneliness made it hard to continue on. So, instead, he let Crawley settle on whatever warm rock seemed best and kept himself company with his thoughts. Unfortunately for him, thinking while in Crawly’s presence often only led to one place.

Crawly had been made to all but Fall, with his angelic name stricken from memory and his true form taken from him until he might redeem himself. Whatever that might mean. The other angels certainly seemed to view him as little better than the Fallen. Over five centuries on and Aziraphale could still perfectly recall Gabriel’s expression of distaste as he commanded that the serpent be expelled from Eden. There had been no explicit command that Aziraphale follow suit when Crawly had been ejected from the garden, but he’d decided accompanying Crawly was the least he could do. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel that what had happened was his fault. He _ had _been on apple tree duty. He was also the reason the seraph knew about the tree in the first place.

The stars above shimmered oddly and Aziraphale realized tears were clouding his eyes. He dashed them away. “I’m a terrible angel. I was supposed to guard, to protect, and look what happened. If it wasn’t for me, you would still be you and the humans would probably still be in Eden.”

He picked up the stick again. It seemed a poor tool for the task he imagined. He pressed it into the sand, unsure. He couldn’t possibly. If he couldn’t capture stars, how was he supposed to capture the likeness of their maker? But what could it hurt to try. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Unlike Crawly’s name, the seraph’s former image had not been banished from memory. Aziraphale supposed it was some extended part of Crawly’s punishment- how else could he know what he’d lost if he couldn’t remember what he’d been? Or perhaps that wasn’t it at all. Perhaps only Aziraphale remembered because the sight had been burned into the all too human eyes of his corporation.

It was a cherished memory, drawn upon frequently but furtively, a secret Aziraphale kept in his heart. The eyes were easiest to remember as they’d been gold even then as they were now. There had been six wings, starlight bright and stunning. Hair like molten copper, that cascaded all the way to the ground in waves of unruly curls. Long, delicate fingers made for sculpting and not for folding around the hilt of a sword. A smile so bright, Aziraphale had wondered immediately upon seeing it what it would look like under the seraph’s creation, or if they could even see the night sky for its brilliance.

Aziraphale’s tongue poked through his lips and he concentrated on the stuttering movements of the stick. It would be an impermanent thing, all the better for how little it captured its subject, but he was determined to see it done. No matter how briefly or how poorly, he’d make sure the angel he’d met on the wall all those years ago would be seen again. The harshly beautiful lines of nose, cheekbones, and chin were softened by that smile. By the time it was finished, the first rosy fingers of dawn had stretched up from the horizon. Aziraphale smiled sadly back at the image he’d created before he banished it with a wave of his hand. Not long after, as the final star vanished from the sky, Crawly stirred.

“Ready for the day?” Aziraphale prompted, forcing a cheer into his voice that he didn’t feel at the moment. “I know it can take you a bit to regain your senses in the morning but I thought we might have an early start. There’s a human village off to the west that I thought we might visit. Spread a few blessings, good cheer, and all that.”

Aziraphale extended his arm toward Crawly, offering him an easy route up to his shoulders. Crawly didn’t take the offer. Instead the serpent curled further in on himself. “Sssss’not really my thing.” Aziraphale found the extra sibilance charming but he knew Crawly was self conscious about it. Sure enough, he silenced himself a moment to get a better handle on it. “Human cheer, that is,” he continued. “Usually it’s lots of screaming and pointing. Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

“That may be so but they shouldn’t blame you either,” Aziraphale countered. “You know Eve never did.”

“Yeah, well, she’d be the only one.”

“Come now, they’ll learn to think better of you if you give them time.”

“You know how it is every time, Aziraphale.” Crawly met him with an unnerving gaze. Aziraphale knew the serpent couldn’t do anything other than stare, but somehow Crawly had mastered different levels of it over the centuries. This gaze meant he all but dared Aziraphale to argue. The only movement he made was the darting flicker of his forked tongue. “Nah, I think I’ll go east,” he said, when he went unchallenged. “Nice oasis there I was thinking I’d check out. Better way to spend the day, anyhow.”

Aziraphale wasn’t ready to back down completely. “There’s no reason I can’t at least carry you until we part ways.”

“Plenty reason. We’re going in opposite directions, for one.” Crawly unspooled his long form in the serpentine equivalent of a stretch. “Still need some time in the sun, anyway. You go on ahead.”

Aziraphale waited a breath to see if Crawly would miraculously change his mind. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

“I’ll meet you in the evening?”

Crawly nodded and Aziraphale was forced to bite back a grin. Gestures he wouldn’t have given a second thought from anyone else were, dare he think it, cute when performed by the serpent. He didn’t think Crawly would appreciate the sentiment, though, so he was careful to keep it to himself. He pushed reluctantly to his feet. He gave Crawly a soft parting smile and then started off toward where he’d remembered the settlement to be. 

Aziraphale had to admit, if only to himself, that traveling on his own took a certain weight off his shoulders. This was true of course in the most literal sense given that Aziraphale often carried the serpent everywhere. Not that Crawly ever asked him to do such but he’d never minded. He was made of far sterner stuff than he might have appeared and one serpent, no matter the size, was little bother.

But that wasn’t the burden that had been lifted from him. No, Crawly was… trouble. He didn’t intend to be, surely, but he was nonetheless. He couldn’t help but ask questions. Sometimes they were harmless enough things, the sort of idle curiosity that seemed to pass ceaselessly through the serpent’s mind. Upon seeing goats put to the slaughter, Crawly had asked a shepherd how he got more goats. It had taken some work for Aziraphale to keep from giggling as the seraph listened in horror to the details of reproduction.

Other questions were, to put it mildly, a headache. Less mildly, dangerous. Very dangerous. The sort of thing that had gotten Crawly caught in his current predicament in the first place. When he asked, for example, why the rest of humanity had to pay for a sin they didn’t commit. What was the point of free will, he’d pondered, if they were born guilty? That had caused Aziraphale no end of trouble, as he hadn’t been able to do anything at all to soothe the people’s troubled minds. No amount of talk about ineffability and a greater plan had been enough to quell the seeds of doubt planted in some of the humans. Aziraphale fretted a bit that proximity alone would be enough to see him dragged into whatever punishment could come down. For the most part, though, he worried for Crawly. The seraph would only dig himself into deeper trouble if he carried on like that. Worse, he might finally properly Fall.

Without such worries, Aziraphale’s day passed quickly and enjoyably. Small blessings were placed on crops, minor miracles used to ease away the limp in a shepherd’s leg, and many lively discussions were had with young and old alike. At the end of it all, he was invited to share a meal, an invitation he was more than happy to accept. The fruits in the garden had been scrumptious, no doubt, but humans in all their ingenuity had figured out how to make something new and marvellous out of what they’d been given. The hearty stew they shared with him braced him more with its warmth and love than any nutritional value, of which the angel naturally had no need.

When all was said and done, he felt better prepared to face the night ahead. He was tempted to take the offer of a place with the humans for the night. It wasn’t as though Crawly would miss him as he slept. Aziraphale had said they would meet up again, though, so meet up they would. He gave his farewells to the humans and passed on a few more blessings as he went. He might not be with them but they would have his protection until the sun rose again, at least.

His steady pace eastward was interrupted by a shriek that pierced the peaceful evening air. In his alarm, Aziraphale forgot wings that might have carried him forward much faster and instead broke into a panicked run. He remembered Crawly’s complaint that the humans often screamed when they saw him. Aziraphale hoped that was all there was to it. Even so, what if the unfortunate creature panicked and attempted to attack Crawly? The stars had already started to peek through the gloom so Crawly would be caught unaware. Aziraphale’s legs pushed him onward, a minor miracle boosting his speed.

As the oasis came into view, Aziraphale saw Crawly wrapped around a small, spindly human. A child, from the looks of her, held in place by cords of muscle to still her angry thrashing. Aziraphale couldn’t make sense of the scene, of why the child was angry or why Crawly had her restrained. He didn’t have a chance to ponder what a child was even doing out so far on her own because the next thing he knew, Crawly struck. The serpent’s fangs sank deep into the girl’s neck

“Crawly!” Aziraphale called. There had to be some mistake, some reason why Crawly would do this. 

Crawly’s iron tight grip on the girl loosened immediately in his surprise. The second it did, the girl pulled an arm free and plunged a knife into his tail. Crawly hissed and thrashed but the knife had pinned him to the ground.

Too late Aziraphale felt it, the distinct current of malice. This close, he couldn’t miss the scent of ash, brimstone, and something else unpleasant and distinctly not of this world. The realization that he was looking not at a young human but a demon came just in time for him to dodge out of the way as she lunged at him. Crawly caught her by the wrist with his fangs. Her eyes were a muddy red with wide blown, horizontal pupils and their fury was divided between the two angels before her. Under her thin, sallow skin, black veins were slowly dyed gold.

The demon fell to her knees and folded in on herself in pain. She lifted her clotted blood eyes to glare. Black ichor dripped from her nostrils, her eyes, and her ears. “Like watching, do you, angel?” she said to Aziraphale. She offered him a bitter smile. 

“No, I-”

He looked away, the sight of a toothless mouth oozing black still in his mind. Demon or not, it was horrific. He could smell her burning from the inside. He had half a mind to speed her on her way when at last she got a toe into the earth and slipped back down to hell.

Crawly wiped the sides of his mouth on the earth in an attempt to rid himself of the demon blood that lingered there. “Bleugh,” he said. “Really makes me wish I could spit to get the taste out.”

Aziraphale blinked and shook himself from the stupor that lingered over him. He walked over to Crawly who was in the midst of a futile attempt to pull out the knife with his mouth. Aziraphale held out a hand in offer. Once he’d removed it, he tried to heal Crawly’s wound but it refused to close. Likely the blade had demonic origins and would need more than a normal miracle to mend.

“I have an idea. Stay there, my dear.”

“Not exactly going anywhere like this.”

The pain was unmistakable in his voice, though he clearly tried to keep it light. Aziraphale’s stomach flipped guiltily at the sound. It was his fault Crawly had been injured. He shouldn’t have shouted. He should have known Crawly had cause. He should have…

Aziraphale swallowed over the myriad of unpleasant sensations his corporation offered up in response. He hurried over to the small pool at the center of the oasis to test his theory. He scooped up a palmful of water, blessed it, and walked it carefully back to Crawly. He knelt next to the injured serpent and poured the water over the open wound. A stream of black smoke was released as the holy water cleansed the seraph’s blood. Crawly hissed in pain. Aziraphale immediately followed the cleansing water with a sweep of his hand. He felt the scales under the pads of his fingers as flesh was carefully knit back together, then another sweep just to assure himself that all was well. He released a tense breath and fell back onto his heels.

“All better, I’d say. How does it feel?”

Crawly wriggled his tail experimentally. “Seemssss better. Thankssss.”

He ducked his head in embarrassment, whether over the way he hissed or because he felt a burden, Aziraphale didn’t know. Aziraphale offered him a warm smile that he hoped covered the continued, confused tumble of emotions.

“It was my pleasure to help, you know.” He didn’t like being thanked, not when it was the least an angel could do for another and not when he felt he was only righting a situation he’d caused in the first place. He cast about for a change in subject and found an easy one with the unsettled earth on the ground between them. “What did you do to that demon? It seemed… unpleasant.”

Crawly wiped the ground smooth with his tail. “Venom is holy. Or, holyish. Holy enough. Enough that I’ve never had one try again after I did that to them.”

Aziraphale’s brows raised. “This has happened before?”

“Eeeh, not this exactly but-” Aziraphale got the distinct impression from the way that he squirmed that if Crawly had shoulders to shrug, he would have done so. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

A deep frown brought the corners of Aziraphale’s mouth down. “It certainly seems like something to worry about if you have demons after you. Did you know it was going to happen? Is that why you decided to go off on your own today? When else have they come for you? Why didn’t I know? Is that why you leave every time?”

Crawly didn’t answer immediately. He instead climbed up onto a boulder that would put him closer to eye level with Aziraphale. “And I thought questions were my thing,” he replied, a mixture of amusement and bitterness. “Maybe I just wanted space. I’m allowed that, right? Didn’t think I was your prisoner.”

“You aren’t. I’m worried, is all. I hate to think of demons coming after you whenever they think you’re vulnerable”

“Yeah, well, ‘m fine. I can take care of myself.” Crawly turned in a half circle so that he was no longer facing Aziraphale. “It’s getting late. I’m gonna sleep. Feel free to come or go.”

At that, he tucked his head under one of his long coils. There was no saying if he really planned to sleep or was simply ignoring Aziraphale. Either way, Aziraphale knew from experience how long such bouts of pique could carry on. The conversation was effectively over and he was expected to simply leave the matter be.

Aziraphale’s shoulders sagged, the weight of another night alone nearly unbearable. “Is my company so undesirable?”

Crawly remained a motionless lump of scales. Eventually he must have realized Aziraphale wasn’t just going to let it drop. He picked up his head and turned it just enough to look askance at Aziraphale. “Is mine so desirable?” he countered.

“Of course.”

“Oh, don’t you ‘of course’ me.”

“Why not? What is so blatantly awful about you that should make my liking you so unimaginable?”

“Quesssstions, Aziraphale. Careful or you’ll end up just like me.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Quit joking around and answer me, if you’d please.”

Crawly slithered back around. “Deadly serious about that one.” He raised his head slowly, looking every bit the predator. “I’m the serpent of Eden. Don’t think I miss the way humans look at me or the way you do, for that matter. When they shy away. When I ask too many questions. You’re worried you could end up just like me. Tell me, how did they feel about you giving away that sword of yours?”

Aziraphale squirmed. “It hasn’t come up again, actually. And I don’t look any way at you. I only feel poorly for the way they all treat you.”

“Oh come off it, Aziraphale.”

“I’m being quite serious, I assure you. I only think well of you.”

“Is that why you insist on carrying me around everywhere?” Crawly moved closer and his voice dropped to a bitter hiss. “I’m perfectly content on the ground but you think it’s undignified. Don’t try to say it’s not.”

“I would ask you not to speak to how I feel, thank you.” Aziraphale lifted his chin to force more confidence than he felt at the moment. “If I… If I come across as embarrassed, it’s _ for _ you and not _ by _you. You shouldn’t be made to crawl about on your belly.”

“Part of the whole idea of trapping me in this form. Meant to be embarrassssssing.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t mean I have to agree. You are a seraph.”

“Am I?” 

Aziraphale crossed his arms. “Now who’s not being serious.”

“What’s my name?” Crawly hurried on before Aziraphale had a chance to answer. “Not the one on the tip of your tongue right now. My God given name.”

They both knew it was a trick question. He didn’t know. No one did anymore, which was likely the point Crawly was trying to make. When no reply came, he obviously thought he’d made his point and hid his head once more from the stars blossoming above.

Well, tonight Aziraphale wasn’t going to take it. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am not,” came the muffled reply from under a tangled bundle of snake. 

“You are. You’re- you’re _ sulking _.”

Crawly moved just enough that the tip of his snout was visible. “S’what if I am? I think I have a lot that I have a right to sulk about. Anyway, goodnight.”

Aziraphale crossed his arms and kept stubbornly in place. Just because he hadn’t had any luck on this front in the past five centuries, it didn’t mean he couldn’t now. He only needed to be bolder. To try harder.

“Please, my dear, just stay awake tonight.” Silence and not so much as a flicker of movement. “I apologize if I haven’t done enough to stand up for you with the humans, if I ever doubted you or did anything to make you feel lesser. I’ll admit, I might have begun my travels with you for… charitable reasons, but that’s not why I continued. As I said before, you’re not my prisoner but neither am I yours. We aren’t chained together. I continue on because I enjoy your company. Quite a bit, actually.”

A pair of golden eyes slowly emerged. Crawly’s head was still shadowed by the bulk of his body but it was still remarkable given the hundreds of years spent to the contrary. “You don’t,” he said.

“I do,” Aziraphale responded firmly.

“You can’t. You-” Crawly lost his line of thought in an unintelligible garble of sounds. When he picked up the thread again, he said, “Even the demons don’t like me and I’ve been doing their job for free. Although, come to think of it, probably why they don’t like me. Makes them look bad, an angel accidentally doing their job for them and better than any of them have managed.”

“Crawly-”

“No, I’m not- You can’t-” Crawly sputtered. “You’re a good angel, Aziraphale. I’m just… trouble.”

“You might be that,” Aziraphale said in what he hoped was a teasing tone, “but you’re so much more. You helped create all that.”

Aziraphale knew as soon as he gestured up at the heavens, that it was a step too far. Crawly hid away his eyes as if only remembering the time. “Been a while since I did that. Don’t think I could anymore even if I tried.”

Aziraphale closed the gap between them. He reached out a trembling hand and forced himself to place palm to scales. “It’s also been a while since you promised to look at them with me, but you could still do that. If you want. I would enjoy it immensely.”

“Can’t take you up to see them anymore,” Crawly mumbled.

Aziraphale glanced about and was struck with sudden inspiration. “Perhaps not, but…”

He spread his arms wide to scoop up the massive serpent. It wasn’t easy with the way Crawly struggled nor with the slip of scales, but Aziraphale’s warrior strength won out and he managed to pick the snake up.

“Put me down!”

And Aziraphale did. He wasn’t about to force Crawly into anything. However, like any good warrior, he had more than one weapon at his disposal. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wish to do but I wish you’d go with me on this. I won’t ask again but please.”

Crawly groaned and even thrashed about a bit. “Fine. _ Fine _. I can’t believe you’d break out that look for something like this. That’s playing dirty. Maybe you’re not such a good angel after all.”

“What look?”

“Oh-ho, you don’t even know you do it. That’s even worse somehow.” Crawly had kept his eyes locked on Aziraphale but flicked them toward the sky and back again. “Yeah, fine. Anything you want to do.”

Aziraphale’s face broke into a smile. “Excellent. Follow me.”

He didn’t look back to see if Crawly was following. He could tell from the prickle of grudging affection in the air that the serpent was there. Crawly continued following even as Aziraphale walked out onto the water.

“What’re we… _ oh _.”

Aziraphale’s smile widened. “Yes, I think that covers it. The effect is everything I’d hoped.”

By now the stars had come out in force. The weather was perfect for viewing them. Some would say miraculously so. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky and not so much as one puff of wind to stir the water. The pool was utterly still and so turned into a mirror. Aziraphale was proud to have found a way for Crawly to be in the middle of the stars once more without ever having to leave the Earth. As for the serpent, he was transfixed. Crawly’s mouth fell open slightly as he looked up at the sky, down at the pool, and back again.

“I… it’s…” Crawly’s voice trembled. He tried in fits to find words. When he failed, he slithered quickly up Aziraphale and buried his face in the crook of the principality’s neck. “Thank you, angel,” he murmured.

“Anytime, my dear.” Feeling emboldened by his success, Aziraphale stroked the top of Crawly’s head. He stopped when something struck him. “Wait, why did you call me ‘angel’? You’re not back on that whole ‘not really an angel’ yourself nonsense, are you? Because you know how I feel about that.”

“M’not. You’re just… you.” This close, Aziraphale could feel the frantic beat of a heart against his skin and a body that shivered nervously with emotion. “You’re the best angel. The only one who really deserves the title.”

“Well, that’s alright then, I suppose. As long as you know how fond I am of you.”

Crawly hissed, at a loss for words. Or, at least, actual words. For all the times language had failed him tonight, Aziraphale might have thought the serpent was losing the ability to speak. But eventually he managed, “Can we just look at the stars like you planned?”

“I’d enjoy that very much.”

Crawly finished climbing up onto Aziraphale’s shoulders and the weight no longer felt like a penance but a blessing as they were lost together in the light all around them.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out! I rewrote the entire thing three times.


End file.
